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Myiari's Date
}}} Night had long since fallen on the city of New Alderaan, but the ambient glow of the bright lights from the signs in the entertainment district made it feel more like early dusk. While not packed with people like it was prone to be during the morning or evening rush, there were a fair number of people walking the streets. Myiari was one such person. She had arrived a bit earlier than the proposed meeting time and stood outside what appeared to be a streetside bistro, anxiously checking her time display. Clad in an outfit far more semi-formal, and more feminine than her usual garb, she would be difficult to identify were it not for the conspicuous goggles she wore as a makeshift headband for her hair. Up until a few moments before he reaches Myiari, Brek is invisible among the crowds, his plain but dressy clothing seemingly tailored to convey a bland, monochromatic impression. Stylish, muted alternations of black and white, accompanied by his usual belt and gun. He's staring down at a datapad, following the trail indicated upon its glowing screen, though he glances up occasionally to make certain of his position. As he reaches the red dot at the center, he looks up again, his eyes falling upon Myiari by pure happenstance. Twenty feet away, he hurries forward, tucking his screen away and pulling down on his tunic to straighten imagined creases. "Hello!" he calls, coming to a halt before her, an awkward silence punctuating his second remark. "You look nice." He smiles, his eyes rising up to the goggles as he adds, "You look... Very nice." Myiari fusses about with her skirt, attempting to pull the hem down lower over her legs without having to bend over. "Ah, thanks," she replies somewhat bashfully, straightening herself up. "You don't look too bad yourself; it's kind of charming." Offering him a smile in return, she nods her head at the entrance to the restaurant. "I'm glad you made it here alright. I wasn't sure if you'd get lost or something. You set up the reservation, right? They don't look full, so even if we didn't have one, I think we'd be okay." "Yes, it looks promising. I'm glad you're here too. I made the reservations, come on." Turning to the restaurant and making his way toward it, Brek slides the door open and enters the bistro, holding it for Myiari before approaching the maitre'd. "We're Halsmer, party of two?" he posits. The maitre'd, a thin, handsome Twii'lek, runs his finger down the list, nods, and gestures to a nearby table, laying two menus out for perusal. "Enjoy. A waiter will be with you shortly," he remarks, before returning to his place. Brek slides out a chair for Myiari and assumes his own, sinking into it slowly and self-consciously adjusting his sleeve. "So," he remarks, eyeing one of his buttons with a distinctly awkward lilt to his voice, "You're... a doctor? How long have you been doing that?" The woman's eyes flit over the menu briefly, but upon hearing Break speak, she lifts her head, offering a small, embarrassed smile. "I'm a medic, to be more precise," she says in correction. "I mostly handle emergencies, but I'm a doctor-in-training. I've been a medic for...oh, a few years now; have been since I finished school. I only started trying to become a doctor after I moved here about a year ago." Her eyes roam back to her menu, her expression almost distant--reminiscent. "It's kind of hard to believe I've been living here that long already." "I don't think I've been anywhere for that long since I signed up with the-- ship I'm on." Brek opens his own menu, his face dipping behind it. "It must be nice being tied down. I've forgotten what it's like. Even though I've been off for a while now, everything still feels distant. I'm not quite used to gravity that isn't artificial." His eyes move to and fro across the printed words, and then he gestures to an entry, laying the menu down to open it to Myiari's view. "Do you want to share one of these as an appetizer?" he asks, his finger resting on an entry titled simply 'plate of dumplings'. "Sure, why not," Myiari replies, leaning forward to see what Brek points at. As she settles back into her chair, she lowers her menu and folds her arms over the table, her finger hovering over a particular selection every now and then before moving on. "I'm kind of envious, actually; you at least get to travel and see a lot of places, even if it's just through a transparisteel window. My brothers are in a similar situation as you. They're soldiers, but even if I live at their place here in the city, I don't get to see them a lot, and I don't get very many chances to travel off-world. The first time I did after I moved here, I ended up on Nar Shaddaa against my will, and the second time I was venturing into a warzone." Glancing up abruptly, she adds, "I think I'll be having the steak for the main course. What about you?" "I was thinking the steak as well. The description sounded promising." Brek folds his menu, decision-making done, and lays it aside before realizing that he's lost his previous barrier. Faced with Myiari, he smiles, a mix of embarrassment and surprise, glancing down at his hands and folding them together. "Nar Shaddaa isn't a nice place," he remarks, after a moment of searching. "I've been there a time or two, when my superiors had... business. I was there as a guard. We ended up being ambushed by a team of Gran with enough thermal detonators to blow up a Death Star. I don't think fondly back on it, but I guess it has some very impressive, breathtaking places to fall from." The momentary dark, haunted look about his features is vanished by the weak jest, and he smiles. "It sounds like a lot of things happen to you. That's something we have in common. Every time there's a dangerous job, I'm always, somehow, a part of it. Even when it doesn't involve me. I think the universe must hate us both." Myiari laughs quietly, nodding her head in agreement. "Yeah, probably. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if that were the case." As the waiter comes by, she forwards their dinner order in addition to two glasses of Corellian ale before he scurries off again. "To be perfectly honest," she continues without missing a beat. "As horrible as Nar Shaddaa was, and despite nearly dying there, I think the whole experience changed me. It made me grow a spine and stop being afraid of everything. Granted, I'm carrying around a blaster now and shooting at things, so I don't know if I changed for the better." "Well, I carry around a blaster and shoot at things as my job, so I might be biased, but I don't think being able to defend yourself is bad." Brek leans back in his seat, seeming now to be more at ease with his surroundings. Occasionally he scans the nearby clientele with a wary look, but he spreads his arms along the back of his seat, hands dangling. "If you can't walk around outside without being afraid, then you need to do something about that." He's silent for a moment, but then he grins, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner. "But do me a favor, and never, ever invest in a sleeve blaster like your Senator friend. It's not nearly as effective as the holos make it look, and All my Fuzzlings is terrible about depicting proper blaster safety. The way the villain was handling it, he should have shot off his own elbow." "You watch that show too?" Myiari makes a face somewhere between a laugh and a grimace, tucking a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear. "I kind of figured you might've been more of a shockball kind of guy. I stopped watching most of those daytime holodramas after they stopped making sense; the primetime ones are WAY better." She leans forward, folding her arms over the edge of the table. "I'm partial to the police dramas myself. My blaster model's similar to the ones they use on those shows." "Now, don't give me that look!" protests Brek self-consciously, holding up his hands and attempting a scowl. "Some friends of mine used to like it. I watch it for nostalgia's sake." Then he adds, grinning, "And to snark, as long as we're being honest. Shockball's never really been my thing. It's just a bunch of posturing. I like some of the primetimes. There's this one now that piloted a few weeks ago. 'White'. It's about the life of an Imperial stormtrooper. I managed to catch up on it while I've been on leave, and I think it's my new favorite holodrama. The writing is just... good. They get gun safety right, too. If you do that, you've got me sold." Partway through the conversation, the waiter returns with their appetizer--a plate of about a half-dozen, innocuous-looking dumplings--and their drinks. "Your steaks should be along shortly," he says curtly before bowing out and disappearing further into the dining room to tend to other patrons. "I haven't seen that one or any of the new shows that've premiered lately," Myiari replies, eyeing the dumplings and prodding at them with the prongs of her fork. "I've had the late shifts at the hospital up until a week or two ago, so I usually end up having to wait for reruns. In the meantime, I'm left totally clueless on all the holodrama gossip." "Oh, then I won't talk about it anymore," Brek replies apologetically, eyes veering up to follow the appetizer's descent to the table. He nods in thanks, before retrieving his fork. Rather than prodding hesitantly as Myiari is, he pointedly stabs one, retrieving it from the dish and popping it into his mouth. His conversation is momentarily halted as he chews, his expression at first contemplative and then pleased. The flavor, whatever it might be, seems to strike him as fully agreeable. "Do you read at all? I try to, but we don't get many books on the ship. I like history. Reading about the old days, before the Empire, when the Old Republic was still in power. It's sort of a fascination of mine." Myiari seems to watch Brek's expression carefully, and after seeing no adverse reaction to the dumplings, she impales the one she had been poking at and consumes it in two bites. "Do I read?" she asks incredulously before offering a laugh. "I read a lot, yeah. I always go to the park to read a holonovel whenever I'm on break." Before long, she stabs at another one of the dumplings and pops it into her mouth, nearly forgetting to finish swallowing before she speaks again. "The Old Republic era's nice to read about; it always had an air of...majesty to it, I guess you could say. Aside from history, I like reading mysteries, and maybe the occasional romance." "Romance?" There's surprise in his tone. "You?" Brek levels his gaze on her, spearing another dumpling. "I would never have guessed." He raises his fork, its crust a centimeter from his lips before he lowers it to add, "Not that that's bad. Mysteries are something I have a love-hate relationship with. If I get started on one I have to see it through to the end. Just how I work." He devours his forkful, chewing more slowly this time before ultimately swallowing. "I guess it's because I've been in a lot of situations with too much ambiguity and not enough hard fact. Reading about it or seeing it just preys on me." Smiling, he offers an apologetic shrug. "I think that's why I like history so much. I work best with things I can get a grip on. But mystery... The ones where they withhold facts to pull a fast one on you just irritate me, I can't stand those. When they play it fair and give you enough to take a guess of your own before the big reveal at the end? That's fine. I'll read those. I like those." Myiari glances away, a look of faint embarrassment on her features at Brek's accusatory tone. "What? Some romances can be well-written and not the skin-holo, poodoo quality most writers like to put out," she says in protest, wagging her fork at him to lend emphasis to her comment. "And to be honest, I do share your sentiments on mysteries. I like it when they make sense. I like it when you're given enough hints to come to your own conclusion instead of giving you an ending where you're left wondering just how it came about when the plot completely pointed to something else. It's too bad real life isn't that clear-cut." Brek swings his fork upward, teasing Myiari by tapping hers with his own. Lowering it as a faint 'ting' rings through the air, he nods, idly stabbing another dumpling. "Right! That's exactly what I mean," he agrees. "I like romance, I suppose," he comments, narrowing his eyes, "But as a side dish. I don't like it as a main dish. When the man and the woman are making eyes at each other, I just want something to... happen. A blaster-fight, or maybe an asteroid field. Something to make it more interesting. Romance is something I take in small doses." He grins up, his eyes bright, and he shrugs again as though in apology. "Maybe I'm just not sentimental enough?" Myiari chuckles and harpoons the last dumpling, devouring it in a single bite. "Nah. Maybe it's me that's the hopeless romantic. I'll tell you one thing, though: the 'forbidden love' romance plots are usually horribly done and so cliche. Seriously! Who reads those things? It's like it was written by a lovestruck teenage girl." The young woman picks up her glass, which had gone ignored up until that point, and takes a sip from it, smiling briefly at the taste. "Ahh. It's been a while since I've tasted Corellian ale. My brothers used to sneak some from our father's stash when we were still living with our parents. They still buy it when they're on leave to celebrate coming home. Kind of a silly ritual, now that I think about it." "Corellian ale isn't bad," shrugs Brek, eyeing his own mug thoughtfully. "I don't see why it's silly." He takes a drink as well, gazing into the depths of his glass for a moment before looking up. "But, yes. Funny story. I used to be under the command of this lady, and she was the hardest, meanest ice queen you can imagine. One of my friends actually got a look at her holonovels once, and do you know what? The hardest, meanest ice queen on the ship was a diehard robe-ripper enthusiast. Some of the absolute worst books you could possibly imagine. We never let on, though, or we never would have gotten the end of it." He waves his fork in the air, as if to gesture, and grins. "Funny, though." Just then, a waiter sweeps by, pausing to set down two identical plates - the main courses. Brek smiles his thanks, and the waiter nods in return, striding away with a polite "Enjoy." Myiari bursts into a fit of laughter as the story is completed, drawing a few odd stares from nearby patrons. "I guess it's true, then," she gasps, wiping at her eyes. "The straight-laced ones are usually the ones to be into the weirdest stuff." As soon as the steaks arrive, Myiari immediately begins carving into hers, slicing off a small piece and popping it into her mouth. "So, hey. Do you have any family at all? Parents, siblings, spouse, kids?" Uncomfortably, Brek glances away, one corner of his lip tugging downward in a frown. "Nah," he replies at length, occupying himself for a moment by slicing up his steak. Rather than cutting a bite and eating it, he organizes it ahead of time, dividing the meat into neat, symmetrical cubes. "I had parents in Coruscant. They died when the city was reclaimed by the New Republic. Caught in crossfire between Republic and Imperial forces." He takes a bite, swallowing heavily, scarcely seeming to register the taste. Silence follows, weighed down by the heavy pronouncement. "I miss them, of course, but they taught me everything I know. They were both good people." He spears another chunk of meat. "What about you? You talked about your brothers, but do you have any family past them?" "My parents," Myiari replies, the question seemingly making her equally uncomfortable. As she chews on another small piece of steak, it remains in her mouth for a long while before she swallows it. "I'm from Commenor, you see. I was still in school when the Empire began its occupation of the planet, and my family was never the same afterwards. My parents argued a lot. I used to have three older brothers too... My eldest brother was one of the innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of an Imperial raid on a local smuggling ring." She smiles wanly and taps the strap of her goggles. "These used to be his. He gave them to me as a gift a long time ago, so I kept it." While Myiari talks, Brek works through his food, eating with a slow, almost mechanical gait and pausing occasionally to nod in response to her words. His eyebrows arch at the mention of the goggles, and he glances up to them with a nod. "Understandable," he comments. "But... I've been on the move. No other family, no real chance to make one of my own. I've never been anywhere long enough to try, and my shipmates are either men or frigid Sith-queens." He shrugs, spreading his hands to both sides and grinning as he lifts more of the steak. "So, as you can see, my options are a bit limited. You, though, you probably meet all kinds of interesting people. You work in a hospital, you get tied up in all sorts of bantha fodder... Must be a real social boon." The sparkle in his eyes betrays the humor of his statement, and he eats again: "Good food," he adds, before focusing on his mouthful. Myiari's mood brightens slightly at the comment, and lets out a soft chuckle, continuing with her meal for a little while before replying. "Well...kind of. I do get all sorts of attention, all things considered, and I have made a few friends, but...I don't know. It's not the same kind of companionship I'm looking for. My brothers have tried hooking me up with their friends in the past; they're usually nice guys, but never really my type. And most of the men I know otherwise are usually either grumpy old men or emotionally unavailable." She sighs, tilting her head to the side and rubbing at her temples. "And don't even get me started on all the unwanted attention either. Do you have any idea of how creepy it is to have some slimy, space slug of a person trying to flirt with you?" Brek wrinkles his nose, nodding with a sour, if sympathetic smile. "I know exactly what you mean. I can't stand watching it. The way that man back in the cantina was looking at you was disgusting." He shakes his head at recalling it, and then takes another quick bite. "I understand what you're saying, though. My parents always kept trying to find me a girl back when I lived on Coruscant. They never wanted me to go off-world... But every time I tried taking one out to a holo or dinner, they were just-- well. My parents liked the idea of setting me up with a 'good girl'." He raises his hand, waving it dismissively in the air as he remarks, "You can't talk about blasters with a 'good girl'. You can't discuss anything interesting. I eventually stopped trying." Myiari polishes off the last of her steak rather quickly for a woman of her size, and takes a long draught of ale to wash the food down. "Most of my brothers' friends were flyboys - pilots. Like I mentioned, they were nice guys, but you know how most pilots are, right? Cocky, a little self-absorbed. It's hard to have a meaningful conversation with a man like that. Sure, I don't mind talking about sports, the latest blaster or speeder models, or whatever, but it's so boring when the other guy just talks about himself the entire night." Brek has finished his meal as well, and now sips calmly at his ale, listening with a smile of amusement. "You should listen to our pilots, on the ship. We buy in bulk, and there's strict regulations in place to stop them from tampering or customizing the equipment, and you should hear them complain about the drives and the unoptimized sublight balances and how -difficult- it is for -them- to do their job when they can't even make a -slight- tweak to the forward lasers to use -less- energy, and blah blah blah blah blah." He opens and closes his hand, pantomiming a flapping mouth, and rolls his eyes. "So, when they manage to make these 'substandard' ships - which are not actually that bad, mind you - perform well in dogfights, they'll brag. They'll brag for ages. They try to pick up girls in cantinas by talking about it." He hesitates, before adding with a sigh, "It works sometimes. It only makes them worse." "I can imagine. Really, I can," Myiari says, stifling another laugh to avoid another round of awkward stares. She glances down at her wrist chrono briefly to check the time before returning her gaze to Brek. "What time was that holo going to be showing at? You think we can still catch it? It wouldn't kill me to stay out a bit longer; doubt my brothers'll mind." "Yeah, it's on in a..." Brek glances down at his wrist, and then looks up with surprise, replying, "Oh, we have less time than I thought." He holds up the display. "It's in twenty minutes. If we pay soon and hurry, we can make the early showing. It's nearby, so there shouldn't be a problem." He raises his hand, flagging a waiter down. After a brief, murmured conversation and hearing the price, he digs out the requisite credits and smiles in thanks as the waiter bears them away. He slides a last, small tip onto the edge of the table and rises from his seat. "Let's go."